314 



THE SOUTHERN PLANTER. 



I. 



II. 



III. 



Analysis of the Analysis of Analysis of 

 Viginid L r af. Hungarian Hungarian 



No. i. No. a; 



Sulphate of lime 5.12 p. e. 



Chloride of sodium 5.65 " 



Ghoride of potassium 5.50 " 



Potassa 27.63 " 



Lime 82.07 " 



Magnesia 7.11 " 



Soluble silica 1.63 " 



Charcoal and sand, 7.10 £: 



Phosphate of lime 8.19 " 



Soda . " 



Iron A trace. " 



Phosphate of iron £; 



7.14 p. c. 



6.91 " 



2.21 ££ 



26.46 " 



27.87 " 



9.72 " 

 u 



12.13 ££ 

 a 



.56 ££ 

 (< 



7.00 ££ 



6.35 p. c, 



3.49 " 



3.93 " 



12.14 ££ 



45.90 ££ 



13.09 ££ 



8.01 ££ 



1.49 £< 



0.07 " 



5.48 £< 



100.00 100.00 100.00 

 The per eentage of ash in the dried leaf of 

 Hungarian No. 1, 21.28, and in No. 2, 23.68. 



A remarkable peculiarity about the Virginia 

 leaf in the absence of iron — in the Hungarian 

 iron is found in respectable quantity. Many 

 other points of interest will present themselves 

 to those who will take the pains to inspect and 

 compare the tables. 



I have never met with a previous analysis of 

 the tobacco stalk. 



Ohas. B. Stuart, 

 Prof, of Chemistry. 



For the Southern Planter. 



Mr. Prospect, Sept. 3, 1855. 

 Mr Editor; 



Dear Sir, — I desire through your journal 

 to express my great admiration as to the ex- 

 cellency and completeness of the Threshing 

 Machine built by John Haw of Hanover. 



This machine was exhibited at our last an- 

 nual fair, and this season it has threshed a 

 crop of five or six thousand bushels, doing its 

 work as beautifully and as thoroughly as it 

 was possible for any machine to do, threshing 

 and cleaning the wheat at the same time. 



Besides this one, Mr. Haw has built some four 

 five others, (one of which I have,) all of which 

 have worked to the entire satisfaction of those 

 who have them. I do not think I could well 

 say too much in favor of this machine. 



I am confident that all who will give it a 

 trial will be pleased with it. 



I think for $500 Mr. Haw would build a 

 machine to work 16 horses, (mules,) that 

 would thresh 1000 bushels of wheat per day. 



I do not like, Mr. Editor, to appear extrava- 

 gant, or to run away with the thing ; but I do 

 desire to see such a machinist, and he a Vir- 

 ginian, who stands so pre-eminently high 

 where he is known for real integrity and gen- 



uine worth, occupy that stand, and meet with 

 that reward that his talents and honesty and 

 his modesty entitles to. 



Respectfully, yrs. &c, 



W. H. Macon. 



THE LOGAN GRAZIER, 



A POEM OF WESTERN VIRGINIA. 



By Thomas Dunn English. 



At dawn to where the herbage grows, 

 Up yonder hill the grazier goes. 

 Obedient to his e/ery word, 

 Before him stalks the lowing herd. 

 Reluctant in the misty morn, 

 With stamping foot and tossing horn, 

 With lengthened low and angry moan, 

 Through drain and hollow, up the hill, 

 They pass obedient to his will. 



The slender ox and mighty bull — 



The grazier thinks them beautiful. 



You see less beauty in the herd 



Than in yon orange-tinted bird ; 



You fix your better pleased gaze 



On yon broad sweep of emerald maize, 



Yon maples on the hill-side high. 



Or on yon field of waving rye. 



More pleased with maize, or rye, or trees — 



The graziers sight is not on these. 



He sees a netted purse of gold, 



In every bellowing three-year old. 



He sees new comforts round his home, 



When buyers down from Tazewell come. 



He sees his cabin nigh the creek, 



Its mud-daubed chimney changed to brick, 



Its rude logs hid by clap-boards sawed, 



Split shingles on its roof so broad ; 



New puncheons on the worn-out floor, 



A picket fence before the door, 



And cups of tin and plates of delf, 



And pewter spoons adorn the shelf. 



Close where the rifles hangs on hooks, 



On cupboard tops are rows of books — 



The Pilgrim of the dreaming John, 



And Weem's life of Marion ; 



The well thumbed speeches of Calhoun,. 



The pictured life of Daniel Boone; 



D'Aubigne's story told so well, 



How Luther fought and Crammer fell. 



To please his wife a yellow gown, 



And heads to deck his daughters brown, 



A ja-cli-knife for his youngest son, 



A rifle for his eldest one. 



All these to him the cattle low, 



As up the hill they slowly go. 



lie fears no ravage of disease. 



'Mong brutes so strong and fat as these. 



There's salt enough for them in store, 



Brought from Kanawha's muddy shore. 



The herbage on the hill is good, 



The fern is thick within the wood, 



There's tender grass in yonder drain, 



And pea-vine on the summit plain. 



High thought of gain that moment thrills 



The grazier of the Logan hills. 



He envies not the hero bold, 



